


A Wizard and A Warlock: Or, How Adam Put the Romance into Necromancy

by Thestarlitrose



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Happy Ending, M/M, Warlock is a ghost, but it's ok!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:48:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27579392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thestarlitrose/pseuds/Thestarlitrose
Summary: Something strange is going on at the American Ambassadors estate and Adam is determined to get to the bottom of it. Only, he wasn't expecting to like the ghost and he certainly wasn't expecting to grow so attached to him.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Warlock Dowling/Adam Young
Comments: 11
Kudos: 70
Collections: ABSFZ Halloween Good Omens Works





	A Wizard and A Warlock: Or, How Adam Put the Romance into Necromancy

**Author's Note:**

> A big thanks to Euny_Sloane for betaing and also being awesome :)
> 
> Because i'm a sucker for Adam and Warlock, and Casper was my favorite Halloween movie as a kid.

Becoming the groundskeeper for the American Embassy wasn’t exactly what Adam had imagined when he was younger. As a child, he’d had a big imagination and an even bigger potential with the power to do as he pleased.

He could have had anything he ever wanted—still could  _ if _ he wished hard enough for it. Back then, he never would have imagined that the one thing he wanted the most would be forever out of his grasp.

Adam started the job in February after he’d been fired from his job at the bakery. He was running low on money and had mentioned as much to Aziraphale the last time that he’d joined him for a cup of tea and one too many biscuits. Aziraphale had offered to see if any of his old coworkers from the Embassy were still around and hiring.

To nobody’s surprise; they were. Adam had readily accepted the job offered to him along with the little cottage that came with the position. Aziraphale seemed pleased with the prospect of Adam taking on the gardener position he’d once held himself and mentioned that some of his favorite memories had taken place on that very estate. Adam didn’t often like to be reminded of the spare antichrist. It made him uncomfortable and more than a little jealous of the boy who had charmed Crowley and Aziraphale while they were essentially raising him. He brushed it off. Warlock Dowling was the least of his worries and Aziraphale had just drifted from telling stories of his time as head gardener into a much more interesting tale about his time with Oscar Wilde.

The first thing Adam noticed when he arrived to take up his new position was that the estate was massive. His new home was nestled towards the back of the property, hidden in the trees in the wood at the back. It was a picturesque little cottage with a thatched roof that seemed out of place on the modern grounds of the estate. It felt like a place he could easily call home. It felt  _ right _ .

Adam had learned his way around the estate easily enough and discovered that the life of a gardener suited him. March brought the first warm days of spring to follow a month of planting and tending greenhouses; he stayed busy during the weekdays, falling into bed exhausted. That’s why, when it happened for the first time, he ignored it. Adam had been out for a walk with Dog when a movement out of the corner of his eye caught his eye. There came a tug from somewhere behind his navel. A chill ran down his spine. Adam had never really been afraid of anything; he’d never needed to be, but he felt unnerved. There was a distinctive charge to the air around him which he pretended not to notice. 

Adam brushed it off. He was too tired to face anything that didn’t have roots and leaves and needed to be planted or pruned. He shrugged, went inside, and ordered dinner. He didn’t feel like attempting to cook tonight. Still—the lingering chill that followed him made him sleep with the light on that night.

The second time it happened was only a few days later. He was elbows deep in potting soil; replanting Mrs. Lowell’s prized camellia when he saw a man standing under a tree—or so he thought. Adam had brought his arm over his forehead to wipe the sweat from his brow and when he looked back up, the man was gone. He must have gone back inside—Adam was relieved he didn’t have to tell the posh-looking wanker to stay on the paths. 

Only it happened a few days later. And a week after that. And again. Each time Adam would notice an unseasonal chill in the air around him charged with electricity.

May rolled into June. The man would appear, only for a few moments before fading out of sight. He appeared most often by the apple tree close to Adam’s cottage. He wasn’t exactly sure why the estate was being haunted but made a note to ask Crowley and Aziraphale sooner rather than later. Adam was grateful he could turn to them for something like this and would have to go visit them when he had a rare day off; they’d promised him a nice dinner the next time. He was lucky they’d found him when he was sixteen. 

Waking up one morning with a full set of wings had been quite the experience. At first, he’d been wary, an angel and a demon? They probably wanted something from him… only they hadn’t. They simply had wanted to help him and thank goodness for that. Adam thrived under their care, their explanations about how to be a supernatural entity in a natural world. He couldn’t believe that after being so lucky to be raised by Aziraphale and Crowley, Warlock had never even tried to find them as an adult. The one time Adam had looked up Warlock Dowling on the internet, he’d been standing behind his father. Warlock had been sixteen at the time, looking completely miserable. Adam had felt a flash of pleasure to see his rival so unhappy, and then a wash of guilt.

Adam hadn’t looked for him again.

He didn’t like to think about the fact that he worked in the very house the guy had grown up in. He tried not to think about him at all, actually. The thing was; Adam was curious. Aziraphale and Crowley rarely spoke of him and when they did a sadness lingered over them. He hated how jealous it made him.

They were eating dessert when the thought came to him. “Hey, Aziraphale?”

“Hm?” he’d replied, licking his lips as Crowley slid the remaining portion of his cheesecake towards the angel who wiggled happily in return.

“When you worked on the estate… was there anything weird about the apple tree planted near the cottage?”

Crowley’s head snapped up. “We planted it. Warlock, Aziraphale, and I. Why?”

Adam shook his head—he didn’t want to ruin the night by bringing up some memory of the three of them together. His gut churned. Fucking Warlock Dowling. Could he ever escape his shadow?

It was only a few days later that a massive hailstorm had blown through. He’d been hauling a pile of branches to the firepit when he saw the man again, watching him curiously. He looked to be about Adam’s age. Maybe a little younger. He was wearing a navy suit and his shoulder-length black hair fell over his eyes in a way that made him look mysterious. It was the first time he’d seen the man up close and he couldn’t help but suck in a breath when he met eyes: gray-blue and strikingly familiar.

Adam threw the branches into the pit, expecting the apparition to be gone when he turned around. Only he wasn’t. “Hello,” said Adam, raising his hand in a half-wave.

The man tilted his head to the side, lips moving without sound.

Adam blinked and he was gone.

Each time the man appeared, he stayed longer. It was the middle of July when Adam first heard him speak. He was turning the hose on when a tenor voice spoke behind him.

“You can see me?” Adam’s head had jerked around towards the noise. The man was standing so close they were almost touching.

Adam blinked. “I can, but who are you?”

The man opened his mouth but disappeared before he could answer.

The next day, he was back again. This time, Adam had a plan. He’d called Aziraphale to ask in a roundabout way how he could ground a spirit. According to Aziraphale, a simple miracle should do the trick. Adam had never quite gotten the hang of miracles, but the moment he’d seen the man he’d pulled on a little of his power and snapped his fingers.

“Oh. That felt strange. Did you do that?” the man asked.

Adam nodded. “So. Who are you?” Adam didn’t want to waste any time and have him disappear again.

“I—I don’t actually remember. Where am I?”

_ Well that was no help at all _ , thought Adam. “I’m Adam. Adam Young. This is the American Ambassador's mansion in England.”

The man tilted his head and glanced around. “I think—I think I grew up here.” He said before he vanished.

For the first time in his life, at least since he was eleven years old, Adam Young was scared.

That night, after he ate dinner, Adam sat down with his laptop and typed out a name he’d sworn to never search again. His eyes roaming article after article, pity, and sadness crept into his chest.

Warlock had been driving home from work when it had happened. He was a teacher, a fucking English teacher. A car had veered into his lane and that was it, the end of the not-actually-the-antichrist Adam had wasted years of jealousy on.

Adam didn’t sleep at all that night. He needed to tell Crowley and Aziraphale. They would want to know…he just couldn’t bring himself to do it.

It was raining when Warlock showed up the next day. The sky was overcast and it was cool for July. Adam had gone out with a cup of tea to sit on the cottage’s small porch and think about what he should do. Dog was curled in his lap, Adam’s hand idly stroking his fur, when Warlock appeared next to him on the old bench. He nearly unseated Dog.

Adam looked up at Warlock, then back down to Dog. Adam’s eyes were dark from lack of sleep and worry. Without Warlock, without the circumstances of his birth—the world as they knew it likely wouldn’t exist.

He’d spent most of his life jealous of a boy because he’d had Aziraphale and Crowley for a few years of his life. From what Adam could tell by reading about Warlock after Aziraphale and Crowley left him, he’d gotten the short end of the bargain.

“Hello,” said Warlock.

Adam glanced back up at him. He snapped his fingers, pulling more power from the air around them to anchor him. Anathema had once told him that names had power. He wondered if it would be true.

“Name’s Adam. Adam Young.”

Warlock smiled half-heartedly. “Pleasure to meet you, Adam Young.”

“Your name is Warlock Damien Dowling. You were the son of Thaddeus and Harriet Dowling.” Adam watched for his reaction. He tilted his head to the side, something he’d seen him do once before. Adam cleared his throat. “You taught English literature at a high school in South Carolina. You haven’t lived in England since you were eleven.” Adam bit his lip. He’d been the reason the Dowling’s had left. He’d wanted Warlock far away from him. And from Aziraphale and Crowley. They were  _ his _ , after all. He’d made sure of it.

He watched as Warlock ran a hand roughly through his hair. “Oh.” Was all he said.

Adam half expected him to disappear. He didn’t. “Why did you come back here?” he asked finally, the silence growing uncomfortable. 

“I think,” started Warlock slowly, “I think I was looking for something I left here.” Then he disappeared, leaving a cold breeze in his wake.

Each time Warlock appeared, he stayed longer. Adam wasn’t sure what to do or why Warlock had chosen his childhood home to return to. As July faded into August, Warlock became a constant presence in Adam’s life. He’d sit nearby while Adam pruned the rose bushes or weeded the flowerbeds. With each passing day, Adam’s dislike of the other man faded into something like friendship.

“It’s getting close to the time of year I’d be panicking over what my new students would be like.” Warlock said one day out of the blue. 

“Yeah?” Adam glanced over to where Warlock was laid back in the grass. His knees were up and his arms outstretched. “Tell me about them?”

“Well, I taught sophomores.” 

Warlock didn't need much encouragement after that. Adam had just nodded when applicable, occasionally asking questions or making comments. Mostly though, Adam snuck glances at the other man, who looked relaxed and happy. The August sun made his skin glow. Made him look alive. 

Adam loved hearing him speak about teaching. Funny and brilliant—he was far too smart to be teaching arsehole 15-year-olds, and yet, he did it because he cared. Warlock often spoke of his students and the other faculty but never once of a partner or of his parents.

Adam tugged at the root he had been trying (and failing) to pull up. It finally let go, sending him falling back into a pile of mud. Warlock laughed. 

Adam decided he liked that sound. 

Later that day; after a long shower to rinse the mud and sweat off, Adam had brought his dinner outside to sit under the apple tree with Warlock. Dog had been trying for the last few minutes to get Warlock’s undivided attention and was failing miserably. Adam chuckled when Dog’s bark startled Warlock enough to make him flinch. “I don’t know why you pretend not to like Dog. He’s a good boy.”

Warlock frowned. “He’s just very… excitable.” 

“Did you have any pets?”

He smiled as he scratched Dog’s ears. “A grey cat named Merlin.” A look of anguish crossed his features. Sadness curled in Adam’s chest. 

“I found him in College. He was my best friend.” Adam had to turn away from him at that. The more he learned about Warlock’s life, the more evident it became how lonely it had been.

Adam was sitting on the couch, flipping through  _ The New Aquarian _ while Warlock ran his fingers across the spines of Adam’s collection of books. His thoughts were not on the pages in front of him but instead on the man nearby. There was still so much Adam didn’t know about him. He wanted to know everything about Warlock. A voice startled him from his musings. “You have terrible taste in literature.” 

Adam grinned. “Says the person who admitted just yesterday to reading the entire Twilight series.”

“I can’t be held accountable for something that was popular when I was in college… besides, I  _ like _ vampires.” He crossed his arms in a pout. 

“ _ Oh _ , you like vampires, do you?”

“Shut it, Adam.”

Adam snorted. “Those books are something you could really  _ sink your teeth _ into, huh?”

Warlock cracked a smile. “It bites that you never read them.”

He raised his eyebrow in retort. Warlock didn’t reply until much later. 

Adam was lost in his own thoughts when he heard him. “I wonder what happened to all of my books.” he’d asked. 

“I suppose your Mum or… partner would have gotten them.” 

Adam wasn’t entirely sure why he’d mentioned a partner, and he was surprised by the relief he felt when Warlock had responded with, “No, probably my mom’s assistant boxed it up. No partner or kids. Just me.”

“Oh.”

Warlock’s shoulders sagged. “I don’t want other people touching them. They were  _ mine _ . I’m not a library.”

Adam had chuckled at that; he’d sounded just like Aziraphale. “What if we got them back?” The slightly feral glint in Warlock’s eyes was enough for him to raise his hand and snap his fingers. They were just books. They wouldn’t be missed. 

There were other things, other pieces of Adam’s chosen godfathers that he saw in Warlock. He’d shout at the hedge to “make sure they knew their place,” protesting anytime he saw slug repellent or poison. “You can’t kill sister slug. She’s just trying to live her life. Have you tried using some kind of barrier instead? Maybe netting?”

He hadn’t told Aziraphale or Crowley about his new friend. How could he?

The August sun was torture. He’d been preparing for a garden party for the last few weeks. His back was killing him, there was sweat dripping down his back and dirt caked in his hair and fingernails. Warlock hadn’t disappeared in at least a week. He’d taken to watching Netflix while Adam slept.

Adam glanced up, watching as the familiar figures of Warlock and Dog ran and played in the clearing behind the house.

Adam realized with a pang that he would miss Warlock when they figured out how to send him through the veil. Quite a bit. It had been a while since he’d had such an easy friendship with anyone. 

September first arrived with blessedly cool air. “Today’s the day students at Hogwarts return for the autumn term,” said Warlock with a nostalgic grin.

“Aren’t you too old to read Harry Potter?”

Warlock gasped in mock offense, “I will have you know; I’m  _ still _ waiting on my letter.”

Adam laughed. “I bet you’d be a Ravenclaw.”

“Slytherin, actually. And what are you then? A Gryffindor?”

“I’ll have you know,” grinned Adam, “that I’m a Hufflepuff!”

Warlock snorted. “Are you particularly good at finding things?”

“Well.” He paused, “I found you.”

Warlock smiled, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. Adam wondered what he said wrong.

That night, they watched the first three movies together. Warlock joked about the films and spoke of how he’d always meant to go to Universal Studios but never got around to it.

Adam wished he could take him. 

September was drawing to a close. The leaves would begin to change soon. Adam had been tasked with decorating the gardens for the annual Halloween party.

“My mother started them. The parties. She loves Halloween.” Warlock smiled, his hair falling over his eyes. “Mostly the drinking and costumes. Got pretty wild, so until we moved back stateside, I’d spend it with my old Nanny or even my tutors. Nanny always had the best costumes.”

Adam fought back against the wave of guilt.  _ I could bring them to you. I could. But they’d send you away.  _ It was selfish of him, not to tell them. Selfish not to have already summoned death on his own.

He could do it. But he didn’t want to. 

“Adam?”

They were sitting in the tiny den, on the loveseat close enough that Adam could feel him next to him like a solid weight. To the touch, Warlock was cool, but his energy felt warm, bright. He didn’t know why it mattered so much to him that Warlock felt alive. Adam glanced at him, “hm?”

“Why can you see me? You told me who I was...knew who I was...and you can see me. Why don’t I remember you?”

Adam felt a heavy weight settle in his stomach. He could lie. He  _ could _ , but he’d never lied to his friends. Lies by omission? Yes. But never a fib like this one. “Do you remember our birthday?”

“Of course! You ate half a cheesecake and—”

“Not  _ that _ you prat. Just; it’s  _ our _ birthday. We were born in the same hospital. I—” He picked at his fingers. Adam’s heart was racing and he felt sick. “What would you say if I told you most of what you learned in church was true? That Armageddon had come and passed. But without the rapture or billions of deaths?”

Warlock’s face had gone as pale as when Adam first saw him. “What?”

“I know your old gardener. He was also your tutor. Oh, and your Nanny. Both of them, actually, um... Their real names are Aziraphale and Crowley and they’re, uh...an angel and a demon? I met them the day the world didn’t end...and then I sent you away. Back to the States. Where you belonged.” His hands were tight in his lap, his eyes focused on some unseen speck on the wall. “I was jealous—I think. You’d spent so much time with them...so I fixed it.”

“What do you mean you  _ fixed it _ ?” asked Warlock slowly.

Adam’s met his eyes. “I’m the Antichrist—only retired, I promise. I think it’s why I can see you. Why I’ve always been able to see you. So, I can...fix things. Change stuff. Big stuff, like the end of the world, but just, um, the once. And smaller stuff, like you and your family going back to the States?”

“So… wait. You know Mr. Francis? And Nanny? And my tutors? How?” Warlock shook his head but kept his hand curled tightly around Adam’s wrist.

Adam swallowed. “They thought you—” He knew he had to tread lightly. Fuck. Why had he even said anything? “They had been under the impression that  _ you _ were the Antichrist.”

Adam felt Warlock’s hand tighten, painfully so. “Why would they think you were me?” Warlock spoke in a low voice, guarded. He’d never heard him speak like that before. It felt wrong. He shouldn’t sound like that.

“I told you, I  _ am _ telling you...we have the same birthday. Crowley—your Nanny—was supposed to deliver me. Then the nuns would switch me with the child of the Dowlings’.”

“But?”

“But there was another family that night. One that wasn't supposed to come…only the baby had come early. I’m not sure exactly how, but I was given to that family. And you to the Dowling’s. The other child was adopted.” Adam licked his lips. “I’m sorry—I should have told you sooner but I—”

“Yes. You should have,” replied Warlock. Seconds later he was gone. “I’m sorry.” But only the chill air left in the wake of Warlock’s departure stirred. 

He didn’t see Warlock for a week.

Adam didn’t think he’d ever been so worried. And Warlock had so quickly become a fixture in his life that when he was gone—the world felt dimmer. He had nobody to joke with, no sniggers when he dropped something.

Adam missed Warlock’s sarcasm and opinionated banter. Adam missed Warlock. Just the mere proximity to him on the couch was enough to calm him some days.

He didn’t understand it. And now he’d ruined it. 

At least, he thought so until he saw Warlock sitting under the golden leaves of the apple tree. A thrill of excitement shot through him. He’d started to move towards him without even thinking.  _ He’s back. He’s back. He came back!  _ He froze halfway to the tree, his heart racing. He felt a curl of desire in his chest. No, not just desire. He felt like something had wound its way around his heart, gripping it.

Oh.

_ Oh.  _ So that’s what it felt like.

He’d fallen in love with Warlock. Except that. Warlock was...dead. He was _ dead. _

Warlock was dressed in the same navy suit as always. His hand was raised in a half-wave and Adam loved him.

“I’m so glad to see you. I—I thought you’d left for good.” Adam felt nervous. His heart fluttered in his chest.

“I went home to see if they missed me. My parents are fine. I thought mum would be at least a little sad. But they were both fine. Absolutely fine without me! And Merlin?” Warlock tugged at his hair as he spoke. Adam was certain if Warlock could still cry, he would. “Mom has Merlin locked in my old bedroom all alone. He sat in my lap and let me pet him for hours.”

Adam shook his head. “Warlock, of course, they miss you! They’re your parents!”

Warlock shook his head bitterly, “No. They don’t. Nobody misses me except for Merlin.”

“Of course, they do!”

“No, Adam.” He replied, a cold breeze hit Adam square in the chest as the nearby trees began to shake. “I had nobody. My students may have missed me and  _ maybe _ a colleague liked me ok, but I had nobody!” He smoothed his hair back away from his face. “I want you to bring Merlin here. Will you keep him?”

Adam agreed. He would gladly kidnap an unwanted cat if it would keep Warlock here with him. 

“And Adam? I think I’m ready to go.”

_ “ _ Go?” _ Oh. _

In that moment, all Adam could do is nod his head jerkily in return as the fragile hope he’d begun to piece together in his chest crumbled again. Why did this hurt so much? 

When he was eighteen, Adam had asked Crowley once about Death. He was too young to feel like it was ghoulish to ask about the grim reaper. Did he truly come in person for everyone? Were there exceptions? What about ghosts? Where did they come from? Adam had never anticipated that particular string of questions would come in handy. After all, Death couldn’t touch  _ him _ . 

He wished he felt that way now. 

“The veils get thinner towards Halloween, according to Crowley. He said it’s easier to see supernatural entities walking the earth… easier to summon them too. I—I think we can force Death’s hand. So, he’ll have to come,” said Adam.

Warlock hummed. “I wouldn’t mind Halloween being my last night on Earth. But you’ll have to dress up for both of us since I can’t.”

“And what would you have me dress as?”

Warlock grinned. “A knight? A Wizard?” 

Adam’s mouth turned up into a matching smile. “A wizard and a Warlock.”

“Exactly.”

There were two weeks left until Halloween. With a snap of his fingers, Adam had granted Warlock’s only request. Merlin had adjusted to life on the estate better than either had anticipated and had made himself at home in several of Dog’s favorite spots. 

They had been watching The Corpse Bride. Adam had joked that he’d marry Warlock before Halloween but he drew the line at honeymooning in hell. Warlock had snorted, but Adam could have sworn for a moment, just for a moment, that he wasn’t in this alone. He’d been flirting openly more often than not and there had been several occasions where Warlock seemed almost… Adam shook his head. Wishful thinking would do him no good. He only had a few days left.  _ “Tell me, my dear, can a heart still break once it's stopped beating?” _ asked Barkis on the television. Adam made the mistake of looking at Warlock. He was still. His face was pinched, his bottom lip wobbling with emotion. Had he been able to cry, Adam was certain that Warlock would be crying. 

Adam reached over and gently encompassed Warlock’s hand. His hand rested in Adam’s for the rest of the movie. As Emily burst into butterflies on the screen, Adam wondered if he’d ever feel this way about anyone else. Would he see Warlock in the afterlife? He hoped so. Adam was placing pumpkins around the yard while Warlock and Dog trailed after him. Earlier, while Dog had been chasing a squirrel, he and Warlock argued over the best weather. Crisp and cool with wisps of clouds scudding across the sky, today was Warlock’s favorite and he couldn’t even feel it, couldn’t cuddle up in a plush blanket and stroke Merlin’s soft fur. 

Adam wished he’d gotten to go apple picking with Warlock, or any of the other frankly bizarre American fall traditions he’d been going on about for the last hour. They had two days left. Two days left and Warlock would be gone from his life, potentially forever. Warlock seemed so good, so kind. Adam figured he must be a soul destined for Heaven, so he'd be alright. Maybe Aziraphale could see him again someday, then. Maybe it was okay that Adam couldn't bring himself to tell Aziraphale, then. He tried not to think about Crowley. Adam wanted to tell them. Warlock deserved to see them again but their time was short. He'd never been selfish before, but he'd never fallen in love before, either.

They were watching Casper tonight. Adam had suggested it as a joke, but it quickly became apparent that their situations were just a little too similar. Adam wished at that moment, curled up on a too-small sofa next to Warlock with Merlin and Dog that tomorrow would never come. 

Aziraphale and Crowley had called earlier asking how he was doing. Adam had lied and now he couldn't shake the guilt. Warlock could say goodbye to them. He should have given him that chance. “You could see them again.” He says out of the blue. “If you wanted. I should have let you. I should have made them come here and see you. I’m so sorry. They miss you...I couldn’t bring myself to tell them, in case they knew how to send you, I mean… but I would for you. Tonight. If you wanted me to.”

Warlock shook his head solemnly. “No. I miss them, but I know Nanny would be so sad to see me like this. I don’t want my last night on earth to be full of grief.”

Adam swallowed and turned back to the movie. A few minutes later he asked, “Warlock? If you could have done one thing while you were still alive, what would it have been?”

He locked eyes with Adam, a sad smile on his lips. “I would have liked to fall in love. I always meant to, but other things seemed more important…and then it was too late.”

Adam didn’t have to say anything in response, couldn’t anyway. Years ago, he'd had all the power in the world at his fingertips and somehow, here and now, he couldn’t save the one thing—the one  _ person _ in his life he wanted the most.

That night, like the past week, Adam fell asleep on the couch, feet tucked under him with his head eventually falling onto Warlock’s form.

Through the heavy veil of sleep, Adam thought he felt fingers combing through his hair. Later, he could have sworn he heard the words from the movie repeated back to him.  _ I wish I could keep you. _

The sun was beginning to set. Adam had dressed up in his black and yellow robes with the badger crest and had taken care to style his mop of curls just so. He was trying to pretend everything was fine. That when he woke up tomorrow morning, he wouldn’t be heartbroken and missing the one person he’d never anticipated meaning so very much to him.

It was still early in the evening as Adam picked at his dinner and Warlock pretended to watch the third Harry Potter—his favorite. He’d said he wanted it to be the last movie he saw.

Adam couldn’t stand that he’d lose him so soon and neither of them were saying anything. He tried to come up with something to say, anything. He asked, “Are you scared?” He immediately regretted the question. 

“No. Sad, but not scared. I’m already dead.” Warlock shrugged, as if it didn’t matter. 

Adam winced. “I’ll look for you, you know, when I—” He began. 

“No!” He snapped, running his hands through his hair like he did when he was upset. “I mean when you die,  _ if _ you die. Wherever we end up. If you’re there and I’m there… find me. But I want to know you’re here. And that you’re happy.” He met Adam’s gaze. “I just want you to be happy.”

Warlock’s words left Adam feeling hollow, knowing that he couldn’t possibly be happy without Warlock after a glimpse of life with him. 

They’d moved to sit under the apple tree. It was pitch black outside aside from the hundreds of candles that illuminated the garden closer to the house. Music beat heavy in the air.

“We planted this with an apple from lunch. Nanny and Francis and I. I think I was around 5. I didn’t even question it—how a sapling could spring from an apple overnight. Tell them I thought of them often? Of everything they did for me.”

Adam’s throat burned. He wouldn’t cry. Not yet. “They really loved you, so much. They speak of you often, like you were their—.” He had to swallow down the lump that had formed in his throat. “—Like you were their own child.”

Warlock hummed. “Will you tell them,” he cleared his throat, “about me? About this?”

“I don’t know.” Adam replied honestly. “You could wait.”

Warlock didn’t reply. Moments passed. Adam couldn’t figure out what else to say.

They sat in companionable silence for a few minutes. Adam’s hands itched to reach over and touch him. To pull him close while he still could. An idea formed. His hands felt sweaty just thinking about it. He cleared his throat nervously. “Dance with me?” asked Adam. It was a novel idea. He’d never learned to dance properly—never cared to. Why would he? He’d never wanted to dance with someone. Not like  _ this _ anyway. In all of his other relationships, he’d never wanted to hold someone close for a song, hoping it would never end. He’d never wanted forever.

Adam stood up, brushing the grass off his trousers, then held out a hand for Warlock to take. Adam felt his muscles flex with effort for a moment as he stood, as if he was helping a real human to his feet.

Warlock was a good head taller than Adam, so when they came together in an embrace, Adam’s face was pressed against his neck. The hourglass was running out of sand. Adam realized he didn’t have to summon Death; he could summon his father instead, the father he was supposed to have, anyway. Make a deal with the devil.

He could feel Warlock, hard, and solid under his fingertips. He could feel his hand on his waist and shoulder. Was he just imagining it, or could he even feel Warlock’s breath ghost over his cheek? Adam wanted it to be real. Didn’t want this to end. Could he slow time? Just this once was he allowed to be selfish? Adam tried to let his thoughts go, think only of the sound of the leaves crunching under both their feet as they swayed to the distant music.

“They played this at the last dance I chaperoned,” said Warlock into his shoulder. 

Adam wrinkled his nose. “Chaperoning sounds dreadful.”

“Well. It’s kind of cute when they get there, all dressed up and awkward. But what’s dreadful is having to break up groping teenagers. It’s embarrassing—” Warlock laughed. “For everyone involved.”

Adam laughed and said, “I never went to any dances as a kid.”

“Oh, my mother insisted. Nothing says young love like dancing a foot apart in a hot gym.” 

Warlock’s hair tickled Adam’s nose and he said, “I like this. I like  _ you _ .”

Warlock pulled back to look at Adam. “I like you too, Adam.” 

Adam’s skin tingled, like the air around them was charged. He glanced down to Warlock’s mouth and back up to his eyes, which seemed to be focused on Adam’s mouth. All he had to do was just lean in and… 

Adam’s phone buzzed, breaking the moment. Warlock stepped back. 

Adam’s heart dropped. Midnight. He hesitated. Hoping in those few fragile seconds when they’d been so close to crossing the final distance between them, Warlock had changed his mind. 

“How do we do this?” asked Warlock as he pulled away from Adam’s embrace.

His hands were still resting on Warlock’s arms. “Are you sure? We could—”

“I wish I could stay, but this isn’t fair. To you or to me. It’s not right.”

Adam nodded. “I wouldn’t mind.”

“You would. Eventually.”

“I wouldn’t, I love you.” The words were out. Warlock knew. 

Warlock’s shoulders slumped, his head drooped. “Oh, Adam."

“I wish you were alive. I wish we’d met under different circumstances. I wish—” Warlock cut him off with a shake of his head. 

“Adam, I’ve felt more alive these past months than I ever did before.”

Adam’s eyes softened and he grinned. 

In the end, all it took was a thought, while Adam gripped Warlock’s wrist, white-knuckled, as if he could somehow tether him to him forever simply by holding on tight enough.

Death was just as Adam remembered from his childhood. The skeletal face he’d starred down all those years ago was unchanged by the years in between. Unlike all those years ago, Adam felt. He swallowed as he stepped forward, inadvertently positioning himself between Warlock and Death. “Hello.”

“ADAM YOUNG.”

“Hello.” Adam half waved awkwardly.

Death sighed. He’d had more than enough of Adam Young two decades earlier. “I WAS HAVING LUNCH.”

Adam frowned. “Wait...you eat?” He asked dumbly. 

“Adam!” replied Warlock in a hushed tone, “you can’t just ask people if they eat. We want him to  _ help. _ ”

"THAT'S AN AWFULLY IMPERTINENT QUESTION FROM SOMEONE WHO JUST INTERRUPTED DEATH."

“Sorry, it’s just that my friend here—”

“Warlock Dowling,” added Warlock helpfully. 

“—Warlock Dowling needs your help. He’s stuck here. He’s a ghost. He needs to go with you.” A pause. “ _ Please _ .” Warlock nudged Adam in the ribs. “—And we’re sorry about interrupting your lunch.” 

“AND FOR NOTHING.”

Adam growled, eyes flashing. “He’s not nothing!” 

Somehow, despite lacking eyeballs, Death gave the unmistakable impression of rolling them skyward before intoning, “I CANNOT TAKE HIM ADAM YOUNG.”

“Why not? Is this about the last time we met—because I’m not sorry for not letting you end the world.” Adam’s grip on Warlock’s wrist had only tightened. He stood tall; chin jutted out in defiance. 

“I NEVER WISHED TO END—NEVERMIND.” Death sighed, as impressive as his eye roll, as he didn’t seem to need to breathe. “I CANNOT TAKE HIM, BECAUSE HE IS NOT MINE.”

"Well, he's a ghost! He can't be mine!"

"CAN’T HE?"

"Wait, what? But what do I... what do I do?"

“YOU SEEM TO HAVE DONE MOST OF IT ALREADY. PERHAPS JUST TRY A LITTLE HARDER, ADAM YOUNG. NOW, I HAVE THE REST OF MY CURRY STILL WAITING FOR ME AT HOME. GOODNIGHT.”

Death vanished as quickly as he came, leaving behind Adam and Warlock, stunned, alone in the dark with each other once again. 

“Adam?” asked Warlock softly, “what did he mean? Why am I still here?”

Adam glanced down to where his hand still held tightly to Warlock’s wrist. His eyes were unfocused but only for a moment. “Oh,” he spoke quietly. “I don’t get it, but I think...I think it’s because I wanted you to stay.” He slid his hand down to meet Warlock’s palm, slowly interlocked their fingers, staring at them as if seeing them for the first time. 

He looked back up into Warlock’s eyes, felt his own prick with heat. “Would you? Stay with me?”

Warlock searched Adam’s face, for what, Adam wasn’t certain. “Stay?” 

Adam couldn’t read Warlock’s tone and plunged on. “With me, and Dog… Merlin would miss you, you know, if you went away.” Adam stepped closer to him. He was a little shorter than Warlock and had to look up to meet his gaze. His free hand brushed a stray wisp of hair off Warlock’s forehead. “It’s your choice. We can find another way to send you on, probably, if that’s what you want, but I want you here. With me. I think you’re half-alive already. You feel warm, did you know that?”

Warlock let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding and nodded. Adam’s smile was like sunshine on a cloudy day. Radiant. Alive. Full of possibility. “You’re so alive, Adam, so brilliantly alive.”

Adam’s hands cradled his face and his blue eyes bore into Warlock’s. “I want you here. With me. As long as you’ll have me.” Warlock nodded, a tentative smile forming on his pale lips. He could feel it, the power rising under his skin, ready to be unleashed. Adam leaned forward to catch Warlock’s lips in a kiss. It was soft, even tentative, but it seared him all the same, to finally break the distance he’d kept between them, to finally feel Warlock real and growing warmer against him. Adam curled a hand up against the back of Warlock’s neck, holding them together, willing him to stay. To stay with him, to stay together, just like that. Adam felt Warlock warming beneath his touch. Warlock’s breath was hot on his face when they pulled away, a delicate pink gracing his high cheekbones, and his lips gone from a pale grey to a pink-tinted mauve. 

Adam laughed as he stood on his tiptoes to press his forehead against Warlock’s. “It worked.”

“You did it,” replied Warlock.

Adam felt a laugh bubble out of him and leaned up to kiss Warlock again—because he could. And because he wasn’t going anywhere. Not tonight. Not, if Adam had anything to do with it, ever. 

**Author's Note:**

> Like Adam & Warlock? Me too! Come chat with me on Tumblr here: [Aziraphalesrarebooks](https://aziraphalesrarebooks.tumblr.com/)


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